ignore the nozomi tojo pagedoll in the corner i'm too lazy to make an actual pagedoll so she gets to be the face of Tha Circ for now
(see original)
Does this do you any good?
If you do this, do you promise to remember me forever?
Keep me safe, keep me healthy, keep me loved?
Even if I hurt you?
This is my forever home.
You don't like the fact, but neither do I.
Does every connection truly matter to you?
You have a very long way to go until you become the sum of your parts. Will you drag me along with you?
Will it hurt you to?
Do you keep tabs to help me, or just to help yourself?
(see original)
to you i am the wolf
my teeth are sharp, bloodied
my shadow large, intimidating
but am i really all that at all?
will you ever see me as gentle?
the house dog,
clearly surviving years of abuse
when you set up a nicer home for me,
i will sit on the couch beside you, i will sigh,
i will lay quiet and still
and i will be gentle to you,
but only if you be gentle to me
and my blade meets
the tender flesh of your neck
and my blade is your blade
and my blade twists against you
and hits the nightstand instead
inside the drawer; soft, tender wood
and my lover beckons me to sleep
i give up and oblige
this robot comes into the record store
on occasion
not a common sight, most can
see the music in their internals
but this one, real worn down,
straight outta a junkyard
clatter
clatter
clatter
that's 'is loose boards and hard drives,
dangling n'
swinging
almost with a little rhythm
like it's in 'is nature
now 'e doesn't pcik up the new releases
'e heads straight to the sales
digging through the obscure stuff nobody
really cares to buy
and 'is hands shake a lot, but you can tell
'e tries to be careful with 'em
'e swings around to face me,
clatter
clatter
clatter
real calculated steps,
'e puts a lot of effort into it,
and 'e puts it on the counter
and i scan 'em
and i ask "what kinda cd player you got?"
cuz 'e picked out a real niche one
and 'e turns his head to look down
at the counter
and doesn't say anything
cuz i don't think 'e even can
with a buncha loose stuff clanging
clattering
it's oughta be damaged to hell by now
so we skip the talkin'
and i put it in a bag for 'im
easy to carry in 'is shaky hands
and 'e takes an extra second to look at me
with 'is one eye
like a "thank you"
and 'e's on 'is way again
drowning in the shallow water of the sink
clawing at the counter
face down in fluid
plug stops the water from going down
faucet overflows, water over my scalp
my mouth makes bubbles
swirling to the top
unifying with rushing water
a vortex
and the water pools on the floor
like blood or wine
it slips under the door frame
sogs into the carpet
the cat in the house walks by it,
sniffs it, as if looking for prey
and the pipes of the house creak,
creak, ache and whine
something like a symphony
angels singing and twirling
although few foolish suicides like mine are divine
narcissus with its head in the pond
breathing in the water like an aquatic animal
the rushing goldfish,
swirling, spinning around my head
glorious light
i cannot tell if it is the lights overhead
or angels laughing at me.
Almost dizzying
Nervousness, my kryptonite
The pins and needles
Come to a rolling boil in my arms,
Hands
Heavy as the world
The disconnect
Hold on to you
Hold onto the work to be put in
Hope that my weak grasp doesn't slip
I talk of two different things
At once
Wheeze for breath
Draw in cold air for my brain
Try to write something coherent
Try to say something funny
Double task
I break the small orange
In twos
Your writing
In the moment,
It flies over my head
Couldn't be for me
It all flies over my head
Couldn't be for me
It all flies in circles around my head
Couldn't .... ?
Swamped mind
It all
Falls
There is snow this morning
Clear white wakes me softer
Than usual
Feels so unclear,
Double check everything
Read it all again
Obsess over it all again
Laugh at how we both got hung up on the word
Two
neat rows of
files
in a cabinet
in the back of my mind
out of reach
work it backwards
retracing steps
into a fog
not there for it then
making up for it
now
extending a hand into
a rock and a hard place
pulling up the roots
replanting them
the greenhouse, the
cycle of rehabilitating
one helped up
can help the next
not out of obligation,
but something else
soul in bloom
free will no longer tangled in nets
vines reach not towards the sun,
but towards
the gardener
every vinyl in this recordbox
has passed through the motions
of my turntable
put you on
watch you spin
picking out melody and rhythm
distinctness in melody
in bass and in drums
it's so you
i can read your lyric sheet
like a book
annotate the lines
the inbetweens
i know you
let this sink basin be the bearer
of holy water
that can rinse clean the grubby plate
to put into godly hands
and placed atop it, food that feeds
not only the body, but the soul and spirit
let this load of laundry
wash my sin clean
dirt and mud of something
gnawing at the nape of my neck
my voice unheard behind a scarf
borrowed from a friend's friend
can't let the filth find its way back to you
In looking for messages from my
teacher,
I find a spam email
Phishing, clearly,
The hook drawn with a
Website linke
The line:
The unusual space between
"User" and a comma
The transsexual enters the
Bathroom,
The women's room,
After stating himself male
To a classmate that doesn't believe him
Another girl is there, sees him,
Trying to hold her gaze
In the mirror
Fixing her hair and makeup
When he walks by her,
She steps
back,
The unusual space between
"You" and I
i may not live in long spans of time,
but i do live in small moments
and i sure can tell you
that every moment counts
clings to you like a tick
the fear, the hands
they pull you apart
splayed internals
two twins souls
polar ends,
hard opposites
fly and twist
When I get angry I can hear you
Clawing, screaming, writhing on the floor
You stick your hands under the door, pulling,
reaching,
You're crying, you want me to hear you
And maybe it was a bit too late to notice
that you were still in there at all,
Easy to mistake you for a mood swing,
Your twisted voice crying out for only fleeting moments
I did not realize I was shoving you aside,
what is still left of my hurt
God, I hope you're still in there
God, I hope I'm not too late
God, I'm struggling with the lock
Hastily trying to open the door
And when it opens,
you are limp, silent again
My own dead body.
Puzzle pieces move in spirals around the border. I'm putting it together
real slow.
I can brush pieces into piles in color or detail. But they crawl back together
in unnatural shapes.
Puzzle pieces link themselves together in most peculiar ways. I scold them for their movement but
they create a portrait of me.
The cat dashes downstairs
clinging to a long line of toilet paper by the teeth.
I retrace her steps as she
moves hastily forward.
Patterns in the tissue turn to letters,
words on a page,
and I find myself in my
mother's room,
watching the books, knocked over,
spill wisdom and morals onto the mundane.
Something strange is happening today
The wind is twisting
West
Blows the hood onto my head as I
walk down the road, to the gas station
On the porch of a picturesque house up ahead
There are two people talking, I slow my gait
And while I cannot hear anything they're saying
A sweet smell of honey graces the street
The one sitting closest to the road
(I was noticably staring, accidentally)
Notices me.
They wear purple and gold, and smile
and wave in gentle motion
(I wave back with my phone in my hand, accidentally)
The wind picks up again
And is warm like a hug
I can't help but think of you
And my cheeks tinge red
The clock ticks slower when you're near.
The moment is tranquil.
The silence is deafening.
I lay here with you, and I feel complete.
I hope when they sell us to the thrift store
They'll put my monitor against yours
And put our keyboards in the same bin
So we can hold eachother
Until one of us is taken away.
i find myself wishing you didn't exist
i've already found out how bad wishing you away is
i know how bad it can get
i know very well that you are the child
and i am the parent you are asking for attention
and how it feels just the same
i can push back and ignore you as much as i want
i can struggle against the wind and the rain
it's just the same as you struggling against the restraints
you can try to push against the door in the face
knowing how it feels just the same
and i find that when i'm flinching at you
i'm flinching at my own reflection in the mirror
and when i finally see you
you turn your head in shame
your movements are not without
long pauses
the wires barely touching
sparking like fireworks
i wonder if i could reach my hand in
hold them together
hold you together
some sort of relief from
the start and stop
There’s a man walking around the neighborhood with weak legs.
The awkwardness of his stride or stance is never the same, each individual time I see him.
He only comes around when I have a tough decision to make.
He always talks about going with your gut. He always talks about how the twist in your gut is your greatest tool.
He always talks about how fighting in the best interest for yourself is fighting the good fight.
I think he might say the same thing every time I talk to him. But I always need to hear it.
I hear it, and he disappears for the next few cycles of seasons until I’m faced with a similar challenge again.
A twist in the gut. Maybe your fear knows something you don’t.
The streetlights guide me home, as does
The handrail guide my decent down the stairs, as does
The instruction manual guide my hand, as does
Your voice, on a call, guide me home.
There is comfort in the simplicity of me and you together
The affectionate pass of playing games and watching one another work
On some random thing; It is not the activity that matters,
But the act of being there at all for one another.
I think that is safety. I think that is home.